Warning Order by Joshua Hood Page B

that he was keeping one piece of information to himself. He hadn’t told his friend that the Iranian had managed to capture Boland a few weeks before the operation kicked off, and he sure as hell didn’t tell him about the equipment he’d taken off their operative.
    It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Simmons, but Cage had learned long ago that successful operations needed to stay compartmentalized.
    â€œSo he was in Syria on a visit?” Bradley asked.
    â€œWell, actually, he was there on behalf of Abu Bakr al Baghdadi, the leader of ISIS in Iraq.”
    â€œWhoa, hold on. There is a connection between them as well?”
    â€œYes sir. Baghdadi needs al Nusra’s fighters to back his power play in Iraq.”
    â€œCraig, I thought you said he wasn’t going to be a problem,” the president said pointedly to his cowed chief of staff.
    â€œMr. President, this is all speculation—” O’Neil began.
    â€œThat is not entirely accurate,” General Madewell suddenly added. “As much as I hate telling two army boys that they are right,” he said with a barely perceptible smile, “I believe that they are dead-on with their assessment.”
    The president shot an angry glance at O’Neil. Cage knew this was not what Bradley wanted to hear, especially given that he’d already dodged one bullet in Syria. Bradley had no interest in tempting fate, but the facts they were presenting didn’t give him many options.
    â€œHow long before the media finds out that we have two helos down?”
    Cage seized control of the discussion. “Sir, there isn’t any media in the area, and even if there was, who cares? The media isn’t the problem here; the problem is the fact that unless you authorize us to put more assets in the area, we aren’t going to be able to ascertain if the two targets are down or get our men out.”
    â€œThe last thing I want to do is send troops back to the Middle East,” the president warned.
    â€œNo one is asking for more troops,” Cage said. “We know they are heading to Iraq. If we can slip the reins off the task force and get a few eyeballs across the border, we have a good chance of nipping this thing in the bud.”
    â€œDamn it, Duke, you’re asking for a lot.”
    No matter what the president decided, Cage was done watching politicians tiptoe around the fact that there was still a war going on. He believed firmly that a storm was building on the horizon, and in the end, the president was going to be seen as either a coward or a hero. It really didn’t matter to him which one.
    â€œGeneral Madewell, do you agree?” Bradley asked, turning his gaze to the JCS chairman.
    â€œThe Joint Special Operations Command was built for this type of thing, sir. If you want to smash it before it gets out of hand, all you have to do is give the word,” Madewell replied.
    Bradley was wilting under the triple attack. “So are we talking about limited strikes, or what?”
    â€œI think we let the commanders see what they can do with a limited footprint; maybe put a handful of advisors on the ground, and then we just pound the shit out of them,” the general said, not wanting to limit his options.
    â€œWhat about our guys on the ground?”
    â€œWell, hell, sir, that’s not a problem at all.” General Madewell smiled, his famous Texas drawl on bold display. “You give me the word, and I’ll have a couple of F-18s bomb those assholes back into the Stone Age. Then we’ll walk on in and get our people back.”
    Bradley looked like he was in pain. This was exactly the course of action he didn’t want to take, as Cage knew very well.
    â€œDamn it, okay, go get our people back. But I want your word that this is going to stay contained.”
    â€œMr. President, please,” O’Neil begged.
    The president held up his hand again to forestall any further